


Here's Looking at You

by stephanericher



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gossip Girl Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 13:10:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8057701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: (Not that Susa doesn’t enjoy when Imayoshi snakes a hand around his waist or rests his chin on Susa’s shoulder or leans in close enough for Susa to smell the Givenchy cologne dabbed right behind his ears.)





	Here's Looking at You

The first time Imayoshi kisses Susa it’s cold and rainy and gross, something that wouldn’t be relevant if Imayoshi didn’t insist on keeping his bedroom windows open all the time because it’s the twenty-first century and heating is a thing that’s existed for a while now. It would be nice if Imayoshi’s feet weren’t so freezing (and he wasn’t kicking Susa’s feet in the first place) or he left his socks on and it would be nice to wear something less than a sweater indoors on the eleventh floor. And it would be even nicer if their mugs of hot chocolate hadn’t gotten cold before they could get halfway through, or if the rain and the sounds of the street didn’t carry so far up and drown out the speakers on Imayoshi’s TV (not that either of them is really paying attention to the Saturday evening cartoons, but the option of pretending isn’t even really there). They’ve been sneaking glances at each other all evening, scooting just a little bit closer on the double bed until Imayoshi just has to flick his foot to kick Susa’s ankle, and it’s starting to feel a little bit dangerous.

Not that Susa hasn’t imagined doing this stuff with Imayoshi before, not that they haven’t gone this far (that’s a terrible way to refer to stuff they mostly haven’t done but Susa’s got nothing better), not that Susa doesn’t enjoy when Imayoshi snakes a hand around his waist or rests his chin on Susa’s shoulder or leans in close enough for Susa to smell the Givenchy cologne dabbed right behind his ears. Not that Susa doesn’t get some kind of thrill traveling up his spine when that happens. It’s just that hinting at it, knowing Imayoshi knows he knows, making remarks in passing, closing the physical distance just a little, is a very different thing than doing something concrete about that. It’s like they’re edging closer to jumping off, but they can still run back, implausibly deny and implicitly accept each other’s lies if they choose to hide it. But once they jump off they can’t climb back up. They can’t retread their footsteps. Susa’s not sure he’s ready for that, and he’s not sure Imayoshi’s ready, either, but they’re both too stubborn and competitive to be the one who pulls them both back.

The obnoxious ending theme begins to play; Susa glances at the clock. His parents probably aren’t expecting him, but he’d like to get home with enough time to eat dinner while it’s warm and maybe call Imayoshi after, play it off like he’d forgotten something over there and ask Imayoshi if he has it and then keep talking until he’s half-asleep and it’s two in the morning.

“Hey,” he says.

The back of his hand is right next to Imayoshi’s; they look like they’re touching. Imayoshi looks up through his glasses.

“I should go.”

Susa swings his legs over the edge but doesn’t move his hand. He glances back over his shoulder; Imayoshi hasn’t moved. And then he does, his hand grabbing Susa’s and lacing their fingers together like netting on a basketball hoop; he tugs, pulling Susa over to him and himself over to Susa, and then they’re close enough for Susa to see Imayoshi’s smile, the mole under his chin, and his eyes are open and then they’re too close to see much of anything because they’re kissing.

Susa’s kissed girls before during spin-the-bottle and seven minutes in heaven, but it’s always been awkward the way his tongue feels heavy in his mouth and it’s never been remotely like this. Imayoshi tastes sweet and sour, his tongue prodding Susa’s teeth, his lips soft and Susa’s halfway trying to memorize this feeling when Imayoshi pulls away.

“Have a good night.”

Susa half-heartedly waves as he exits the bedroom, running mostly on autopilot. It’s hard to feel the freezing rain outside as it soaks his head; he waves off the doorman’s offer to call him a cab because his mouth is still open and he feels so obvious, like if he walks in the door right now his parents are going to know exactly what he’s done. When he reaches the next corner, Susa looks up. The lights in Imayoshi’s bedroom are still on; the windows are now half-shut.

Susa doesn’t call him back that night.

* * *

Since then, cold rainy days have always reminded Susa of that one. He supposes he’s a bit young to be feeling real nostalgia, but his sister’s always called him an old man in a kid’s body and maybe this is what she means. It’s still embarrassing to be clinging to one moment two years ago, like a cat stuck up a tree, unable to get down and move on or even make any progress. Because Susa hadn’t called Imayoshi and Imayoshi hadn’t brought it up and they’d stopped getting so physically close, and it’s stupid to think of that as their first kiss when it’s been their only kiss.

It’s stupid to remember the hot chocolate on Imayoshi’s lips when they get out of basketball practice late (and it’s a little too close to January for this kind of weather) and Susa stuffs his hands deeper into his Burberry raincoat. The passing cars are slick and loud on the pavement; it’s dark out and Susa’s already sick of the winter and it’s not even that cold yet. He considers fumbling in his pockets for an after-practice cigarette, but he shouldn’t be smoking this far into the season. He’ll be home soon enough.

Imayoshi’s right behind him, and under the harsh lights of the school building he can see him clearly. He’s wearing Susa’s old Ralph Lauren hoodie, the one Susa had lent him a year or so back because he’d been underdressed again, the one he’d pretended was totally insignificant and the one Imayoshi keeps pretending to forget to give back. And maybe they’re right back where they’d started; maybe the rain on the red and brown leaves is making their feet slip right back toward the edge after they’d somehow hung on and climbed back up. Maybe they’d jumped off into an infinite loop, and they have to jump a little farther to escape. Imayoshi lifts the hood over his head, leaving his thin hands on the fabric for a little bit longer than necessary.

The school door slams open; a group of whispering girls in brightly-colored galoshes exits; they don’t even seem to notice Susa and Imayoshi. In the dark and the rain, they quickly disappear. Susa thinks, for a second, about cutting in front of them to hail a cab, but that would just push the issue away again before it pushes them further. He’s sick of this. He’s sick of remembering and playing this kind of game; he takes his hands out of his pockets, reaches one hand up to cup Imayoshi’s face and peel a little bit of that hair of his off his forehead. This is Imayoshi’s out; he’s allowed to take it if he wants, ask what Susa’s doing or evade. He doesn’t.

Susa leans in; his nose brushes Imayoshi’s (God, that’s cold) and then his mouth touches Imayoshi’s mouth. He rests it there, lets Imayoshi return the pressure, He’s not going to overcomplicate it with tongues and teeth and tangled emotions right now.

And it’s enough. He can see Imayoshi’s teeth when he smiles, the whites of his eyes, the quirk of his brows.

“Let’s get a cab.”


End file.
